


My Brother the Fishstick

by Zanne



Series: My Brother the Fishstick [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crack, Gen, Humor, Transformation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-03
Updated: 2011-06-02
Packaged: 2017-10-19 21:53:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/205609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zanne/pseuds/Zanne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean gets some tail, literally, after a run in with a nix.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> You know all those stories where Sam or Dean get cursed with wings? Well, I went in the other direction and gave Dean a tail. Yes, a fish tail. Thanks to [](http://gestaltrose.livejournal.com/profile)[ **gestaltrose**](http://gestaltrose.livejournal.com/)  and [](http://insomnia-geek.livejournal.com/profile)[**insomnia_geek**](http://insomnia-geek.livejournal.com/) for a quick mid-read through and for encouraging me to complete this. Thanks to **[](http://gestaltrose.livejournal.com/profile)[**gestaltrose**](http://gestaltrose.livejournal.com/),**  [](http://nativestar.livejournal.com/profile)[ **nativestar**](http://nativestar.livejournal.com/) ****and **insomnia_geek**  for the full beta treatment - any mistakes left are mine since I added a bunch of crap after they read it. Kripke owns _Supernatural_ in all its awesome glory and needs to start working on a merman story just so I can see one of The Boys wet and half-naked for an hour. What? That doesn't mean I have a problem. (Originally posted: 10/21/07)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to meret for the banner!

  
Sam glanced at Dean from the corner of his eye, noting the faint green pallor washing out his brother’s usually honey-toned skin. “Um…Dean?” Sam asked hesitantly. “Are you feeling okay?”

Dean’s jaw clenched perceptibly before he ground out, “I’m a _fish_ , Sammy. No, I’m damn well _not_ okay.” Dean tugged fretfully at the blanket wrapped around his waist, concealing what lay beneath in yards of damp fabric.

“Besides the fish thing, I mean,” Sam insisted, turning his head to face his brother. “You’re looking a little…green around the gills.”

Sam couldn’t help himself and he snorted, his eyes skirting to the side in an attempt to hide his sudden amusement.

“Not fuckin’ funny, you asshole. And keep your eyes on the road. If you put even a scratch on my car, I will proceed to kick your skinny ass with my tail tied behind my back.” Dean glared at him meaningfully. “And you know I could do it.”

“Seriously, Dean. You look like you’re about to float belly up.”

“I’m just feelin’ a little sick, Sam…since I was just turned into a fuckin’ _fish_ ,” Dean reminded him vehemently.

Sam tentatively reached over and touched Dean’s bare shoulder, feeling a soft flakiness to his brother’s skin, even as Dean slapped Sam’s hand away with a muttered curse involving toothpicks and sensitive body parts. “I think you’re drying out,” Sam stated worriedly. “We need to get you wet.”

“I will kill you and bury you at sea if you even think about getting my baby’s seats wet,” Dean threatened, his unblinking gaze ensuring Sam that he wasn’t kidding.

“God-dammit, Dean!” Sam shouted, slamming the flat of his hand against the steering wheel as he pressed his foot more firmly on the gas pedal. “I think your life is more important than the vinyl on the car seat!”

“Vinyl?!” Dean squawked indignantly. “This is pure leather and you know it!” 

                                                  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean awoke to the muffled sound of roiling water, the liquid feeling heavy with minerals as if it were coating him with a fine layer of grime. Blinking lazily up at Sam through the ripples, Dean took a breath, the sensation much like those days in LA when the mere effort of breathing made him cough from the impurities laden in the air.

After taking several deep breaths, something occurred to Dean – he was looking at his brother through a sheet of water, which meant either Sam was under water…or that he was. Considering that Sam seemed to be looking most definitely downwards at him from what appeared to be their bathroom, Dean put two and two together and reached a rather disturbing conclusion. One, they were back at the motel without him remembering getting there and two, he was in the tub…under water, and had been for the past several minutes. Dean sucked in an automatic breath, his subconscious brain screaming at him that water meant drowning and he needed air like now and why wasn’t he dead?

With a panicked flip of his fins, Dean pushed himself upward toward his brother, erupting from the bath in an explosion of water, splashing Sam from head to toe. They both landed hard on the tile, Dean’s weight pinning Sam as his tail flopped back and forth, fins hitting the puddles on the floor with a rhythmic _thwack! thwack! thwack!_ as he tried to right himself.

Whoa…back up. Fins?!

“What the fuck, Sam!” Dean yelled, still trying to get to his feet. He managed to roll over gracelessly onto his back, unable to gain purchase as he slithered over the wet tile. “Where in the hell are my feet?” His eyes widened in horror as he glanced downwards and demanded in an even higher pitch, hands scrabbling over his scales, “Where in the fuck is my dick?”

“Calm down, Dean,” Sam urged soothingly, trying to restrain his brother and heft him back into the tub at the same time. “You passed out on the way here.” Sam gave him a decidedly peeved glance as he managed to still Dean’s wild wriggling. “I _told_ you that you were drying out.”

The afternoon slowly came back to Dean.

They’d been hunting a nix who had somehow found its way to the middle of Bumfuck, Arizona, probably the last place on earth anyone would expect to find a water sprite of any kind. It had been killing the local men over the years, mostly those in their 60’s or even older since it was located in the midst of a retirement community.

Fish food for brains, obviously.

Apparently, the bitch had gotten lonely and decided that since Dean was the youngest piece of flesh she’d gotten her hands on in the past few decades, she was going to make a mate out of him - damn the consequences.

So she found herself with a chest full of iron rounds and burning merrily on the lakeshore while Dean found himself the next in line to play King Neptune, scales and all.

“Back in the water, Dean,” Sam ordered. “I’m calling Bobby.” 

                                                   ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam peered at Dean’s figure scrunched awkwardly in the tub, which was obviously not designed to hold a man over six feet tall with any degree of comfort, particularly lying down.

At least Dean was sleeping; it kept him from complaining too much. Who knew “accidentally” dropping a few Ambien into the tub would work so well?

“God, Bobby,” Sam murmured quietly into the cell phone tucked by his ear. “It’s…weird. I keep thinking I should drag him out and perform CPR.”

He sat on the lid of the toilet and gazed down at his brother, troubled by the absence of bubbles that indicated a human underwater. Sam’s eyes slid down to Dean’s ribcage, where the delicate gill slits that were nearly disguised by the lines of Dean’s ribs fluttered gently. The water lay undisturbed except for the slight twitching of Dean’s tail as he dreamed; Sam was reminded of a slumbering dog, wondering if Dean dreamed of chasing guppies and spawning.

“At least he’s freshwater, Sam,” Bobby said comfortingly. “Imagine having to dump rock salt in there with him.”

“He’s not looking too good,” Sam interrupted. His eyes continued their path down Dean’s body, studying him with the peculiar intensity of a scientist observing a unique new lab specimen. Sam’s gaze swept over his brother’s bare belly, amazed by the almost human appearance Dean maintained up until that point, where a faint smattering of scales began just over his groin and curled around his hips before melting into the supple firmness of a merman’s tail, the deep bronzed gold of his scales already dulled by faint patches of gray.

“You’ve got him in a _bathtub_ ,” Bobby pointed out. “He’s a six foot tall mermaid for God’s sake; he needs room to move.”

Sam chuckled wryly as he made his way out of the bathroom. “If Dean hears you call him a mermaid, he _will_ find a way to kill you in your sleep.” Sam shifted awkwardly, trying to hold the cell phone on his shoulder as he continued to search the ‘net for a possible solution to their fish problem. “We’ve got to get him moved soon. Even though he can use both lungs and gills, the lack of ventilation in the water isn’t good for him. The whole oxygen to size ratio is….”

“Fucked up…I know. It’s like keepin’ a killer whale in a swimming pool,” Bobby agreed.

“You sure you have a truck big enough?”

“Yeah, I got an old U-Haul,” Bobby replied. “Can fit that broken meat freezer in the back and once we get some water in it, it’s a fishbowl on wheels.”

“Is it safe?” Sam asked worriedly, changing topics again without warning. “No…natural predators?”

“Sam,” Bobby began gruffly. “That pond’s lucky if it’s got a fish bigger’n my finger. He’ll be _fine_.”

“All right,” Sam agreed curtly. “Then get here as soon as you can. I’ve got to go change Dean’s water.” 

                                                   ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean paused in scarfing down the can of tuna, a distinct expression of distaste made plain by the way he wrinkled his nose whenever another forkful slid into his mouth. “This shit stinks, Sammy,” Dean stated, adding another wrinkle to his forehead. “It stinks and it tastes...dead.”

Sam arched an eyebrow at his brother lounging uncomfortably in the bathtub, trying to avoid the splashes of water that Dean inadvertently aimed at him – well, Dean said he wasn’t doing it on purpose, but no matter where Sam sat, water somehow reached him. Sam was beginning to doubt Dean’s honesty on the matter. He might as well be sitting there in a bathing suit so he didn’t have to suffer in wet jeans all night.

“It _is_ dead, Dean. Most people make a point to kill their food before putting it in their mouths.”

Dean frowned more heavily, the lines in his face deepening with disapproval as he stabbed at the tuna left in the can. “I can’t eat this anymore. It’s making me sick.”

Sam studied his brother thoughtfully, noting the gray pallor that seemed to be deepening across his skin and the loose scales that floated on the surface of the water. “How about some sashimi?”

“I’m not sure what that is, but does it taste dead?” Dean demanded grumpily.

Sam paused before shrugging thoughtfully. “It tastes like raw fish, Dean. That pretty much sums it up.”

Dean nodded absently at his brother’s assertion, still not looking very happy. He tossed the fork onto the towel puddled on the floor – one of Sam’s earlier attempts to clean up the water pooling on the tiles – and studied the tuna can thoughtfully, running his finger back and forth over the wrapper.

Sam went back to researching, clicking rhythmically on the keys before another wave of water washed over his shoes.

“God- _dammit_ , Dean!” Sam yelped in annoyance, lifting his feet off the floor as he scooted further backward on the bathroom counter. “If you electrocute me, you’ll have a hell of a time driving the car anywhere!”

Dean didn’t reply, and when Sam looked up from wringing out the legs of his pants he noted a flush of color on his brother’s cheeks, Dean’s tail absently waving back and forth in the tiny tub.

Silently groaning over the distinct smell of wet carpet that had begun to seep from the main room, Sam asked, “You okay? Water still good?”

“M’fine, Sammy,” Dean replied, staring intently at the can displayed on his palm. “I still have opposable thumbs. I can turn on the faucets myself.”

“Want me to throw that out if you’re not going to eat anymore of it?”

Dean’s eyes flashed up at him, sparkling blue-green like Caribbean waters; this turn of events had startled Sam almost more than the tail because his brother’s eye color had been the one constant throughout their childhood - that and Dean’s ability to pick up women since he hit puberty, that was. “Did you ever notice how hot this Chicken of the Sea chick is?”

Sam rolled his eyes, finally deciding it was time to change out of his wet clothes. “Tell you what, Dean,” Sam began as he headed for the door. “I’ll give you two a few minutes alone, but when I come back, she’s going in the trash.”

Sam popped his head back in the room, reminding Dean with a grin, “Remember, whatever you do, you’re swimming in it until we find a way to change you back.”

The nearly empty tuna fish can came sailing at Sam’s head, and he ducked with a startled laugh as Dean’s plaintive voice followed him, the carpet squelching under Sam’s feet the first few steps into the room.

“Sam? Rent a movie! I’m booooored!”

“What do you want to see?” Sam called back, struggling out of his jeans as he pondered how he’d move the immovable TV into the bathroom.

Dean hesitated before stating with assurance, “ _The Little Mermaid_.”

“ _Dude_ ,” Sam said, turning to stare in the direction of the bathroom with a look of disapproval. “I am _not_ renting you fish porn.” 

                                                   ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The theme from _Jaws_ erupted menacingly from Sam’s coat pocket for what had to be the hundredth time that afternoon. With a growl of irritation Sam snapped it open, vowing never to let his brother near his phone again in this lifetime. “What do you want _now_ , Dean?”

“Hello to you, too, Sammy,” Dean replied in a pleasant tone. “What are you up to?”

“Currently, I am imagining my brother as the main course at a fish fry.”

Dean ignored the obvious signs of annoyance in Sam’s voice. “Can you pick me up some more take-out?”

“They’re beginning to think I have a pet whale or something,” Sam complained with a noticeable whine. “Which I soon will if you don’t stop it, Shamu.”

“C’mon, Sammy,” Dean pleaded, the faint sound of splashing indicating his agitation. “They’re like Lay’s – you can’t eat just one.”

Sam sighed with resignation, taking a right towards the pet shop. “All right, but this is the _last_ bag of goldfish I’m buying.” 

                                                ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam debated the merits of banging on the window and demanding Bobby switch places with him. The mix of sulky Dean and the strong scent of fish was making him both annoyed and nauseous, particularly when trapped inside such a contained space.

He hadn’t noticed it so much in the motel room, where the aroma of wet carpet had won the battle of odors. Lucky him.

“How’s my car?” Dean demanded again, doing his damnedest to kneel in the sloshing water despite the fact that he currently had no patellae to support his weight. He used his upper body strength to pull himself up by the tiny ledge in the back window, his eyes peering suspiciously through the grime coating the glass to make out the faint figure of Ellen steering his baby down the road behind them.

“She’d better not strip the gears,” Dean growled warningly, sending her a reproachful glare. Noting his expression, she waved at him with both hands, an impish grin dimpling her cheek. A howl of outrage filled the van as Dean lost his grip at the sacrilege he’d just witnessed, falling back into the tank with a splash and dampening Sam’s legs yet again.

“I’m moving this damn thing,” Sam told him, hunching over as he did his best to shove it further away from the temptation of the back window. Dean swatted at him uselessly, threatening Sam with all manners of uncomfortable outcomes if he took him away from his view of the car. Realizing they’d strapped the freezer down too well, Sam gave up, letting Dean think he’d won.

“She’s doing us a favor, Dean,” Sam reminded him with a soft pant as he tried to catch his breath. “Quit bothering her.”

The tiny sliding window between the cab and the back of the U-Haul slid open, Bobby’s gruff voice spilling in. “You boys okay back there? I thought I heard the voice of a little girl cryin’ about her car.”

Sam snickered against his shoulder, trying to hide his amusement at Dean’s look of betrayal aimed at the man in the safety of the front seat. “Stop this truck _right now_. I want Sam driving my car and Ellen can fuckin’ babysit.”

“Hell, no,” Bobby interrupted before Dean could get further into his rant. “We can’t have round two of whatever the fuck that was back at the motel.”

Sam wished for brain bleach as his mind drifted back to that scarring event. He’d let Ellen into the room to keep an eye on Dean, who was humming along to _Metallica_ ’s greatest hits while splashing happily in the bathtub, enjoying his latest bag of goldfish. Just as Sam stepped out the door to take a better look at the set-up Bobby had rigged in the back of the truck, he heard Dean break into the chorus of _Ride the Lightning_ , making Sam thankful to be out of the room so his ears could take a break for a few minutes.

When he and Bobby came back a couple of minutes later, they found Ellen straddling Dean, practically trying to crawl into his mouth as she yanked at the soaking wet shirt stuck around her elbows, goldfish flopping in complaint on the tile. She fought like a hellcat when Bobby and Sam tried to pry her off, Dean flicking his tail against the porcelain tub as his hands grazed the wet denim encasing her legs, looking far healthier than he had the past couple of days even with the drugged expression that made his features slack and his eyes nearly black with want.

The separation of skin-on-skin contact made Dean cry out with need and he started humming again, singing small words and phrases that just caused Ellen to fight all the harder to get back in the tub. Realizing the problem, Sam clamped a hand over Dean’s mouth, wrestling with his brother as Ellen tried to climb over Sam’s back to get to Dean who was now under water due to both Sam and Ellen’s weight atop him.

At a loss, Bobby turned on the shower, the cheap motel plumbing willingly providing a seemingly endless supply of freezing water that made Ellen shriek with discomfort as it hit her nearly bare skin. She slid off the Winchester dog-pile and landed ass-first in the water coating the tile, the shock to her system awakening her from her lust-filled stupor.

Sadly, several goldfish gave their lives in the saving of Ellen Harvelle.

While traumatic to Sam’s delicate sensibilities, they had discovered something useful - Dean could feed off lust as well as endless bags of goldfish though, according to legend, the unfortunate main course usually wouldn’t survive, drowning in the process of mating.

Sam didn’t want to get into the logistics of how sex was possible or what went where when it couldn’t be seen in the first place, but trust his brother to turn into a water-based incubus.

Dean grinned at the reminder, momentarily forgetting the nearly drastic consequences as his voice deepened with pride. “What can I say? I’m adorable.”

“Yeah, cute as a Gerber baby,” Bobby stated with a touch of exasperation. “You’re apparently a God-damned siren, Dean…which means you’re stayin’ away from Ellen or you might wind up Jo’s step-daddy.” 

                                                 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Bobby, we have to stop for a refill,” Sam informed him, practically pushing his head through the tiny opening into the cab just for a breath of fish-free air.

“And some snacks!” Dean demanded grumpily. “We’re outta goldfish already!”

“He’s gone through ‘em all?” Bobby asked in amazement. “You sure he ain’t hidin’ a piranha in his pocket?”

“I wish,” Sam grumbled, trying his best to ignore Dean’s chant of _goldfish! goldfish!_ echoing in the van behind him.

“You positive they’re okay for ‘im? He acts a little…funny after he eats ‘em.”

“He acts like a freakin’ two year old,” Sam shouted over his shoulder, Dean’s retaliatory splash soaking the back of his shirt. “I’ll do some more research once we get to your place. I’ve noticed some…things that have got me worried,” he murmured quietly to Bobby.

“More so’n a fish tail?” Bobby asked. “Oh, this has got to be good.”

A larger wave of water suddenly washed over Sam, making his hair lie flat against his scalp. Even Bobby felt Dean’s wrath as generous trickles of water made their way down the back of the seat, following the slope to soak through Bobby’s jeans.

Bobby swiped at his damp cheek, glancing back at the water-ridden Sam. “I guess we better stop.”

“Goldfish!” Dean agreed happily, the flat of his tail making a hollow clapping sound against the side of the freezer as he disappeared beneath what little water remained in his container. 

                                                 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Those. Are. _Not_. Goldfish,” Dean declared pointedly, aiming an undeniable look of disgust at the offering in Sam’s arms.

Bobby covertly yanked the hose out of the freezer, jumping out of the back of the truck and leaving Sam to bear the brunt of Dean’s tantrum.

Sam stood with a Styrofoam cooler clasped to his chest, the sun slowly drying out his still damp clothes as he hesitated on the bumper before stepping into the coolness of the van’s interior.

“It’s all we could find,” Sam explained again. “Be glad we ran across a live bait shop or you’d be stuck eating a McFish sandwich with the rest of us.”

Dean ignored him, leaning as far as he could out of the freezer so that the rays of the late afternoon sun bathed his upper body in light. He closed his eyes, basking in the sunlight like a beached seal, absorbing the heat with an almost obscene amount of pleasure. “I don’t even eat those on pizza,” he grumbled, absently flicking his tail and wetting his back with a quick wash of water.

Sam’s eyes skirted worriedly over to Ellen parked several yards away. He could see her leaning against the Impala’s fender, the headphone wires draped across her chest as she deafened herself with whatever came out of the i-Pod stuck in her pocket. Her eyes brushed guiltily away from Dean before slinking back, drawn to the almost pornographic image of Dean’s taught torso leaning into the light, carving every muscle out of the shadows as water trickled teasingly over his chest.

Great, siren song was not only an aphrodisiac, but it seemed to be as hard to quit as crack.

Bobby had noticed Ellen’s gaze, as well, and he swept into Sam’s view, taking Ellen gently by the arm and dragging her inside the small store to get her out of Dean’s line-of-sight.

With that concern taken care of, Sam refocused on his brother. “This is it, Dean. Think of them like Brussels sprouts – they don’t taste as good, but they’re nutritious.”

Dean opened one eye, staring evenly at Sam. “I’ll eat one if you do.”

“You are such a baby.” Sam reached awkwardly into the bin to grab a sardine before it could wriggle out of his grasp. “Deal.”

At that, Sam tilted his head back and dropped the sardine into his mouth, swallowing quickly before the taste registered. He set the container next to Dean’s freezer, stating briskly, “Eat up, Dean. I’m going to be outside throwing up now.”

Sam leapt out of the back of the truck, fighting the nausea as he bent over by the back tire, taking several deep breaths to settle his stomach. Dean’s cackle followed him out into the heavy summer heat as he flopped back into the water with an audible splash. “I can’t believe you did it!” Dean crowed with pride. “This is just like the time I got you to eat that earthworm when you were ten!”

Sam somehow managed to keep the sardine down – he swore he could still feel it wriggling in his stomach – and stood at the end of the truck, hands on hips as he said firmly, “Now you can’t complain the rest of the way to Bobby’s, got it?”

A small fish flew out of the shadows of the truck, splatting against Sam’s T-shirt before flopping into the dirt at his feet. “I still want goldfish when we get to Bobby’s.”

“Fine,” Sam grumbled under his breath. “Baby.” 

                                                ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They’d swum in Bobby’s small pond as boys, spending a few golden summer days cooling themselves in its waters. They’d even tried fishing once or twice, but never seemed to catch anything worth eating.

Now Dean was going to live there until they found a way to make him bipedal once more.

Sam was a little concerned. “Okay, Dean…the water is fresh, it feeds off some small streams which are too shallow for you to possibly get lost in….”

“You mean escape,” Dean said, swimming in lazy circles by the shore where Sam sat in the shade of a large willow tree. Noting the look of alarm on his brother’s face, Dean reminded him, “I’m not going anywhere, Sammy.” An expression of disappointment flitted over Dean’s face, but was gone before Sam could really be sure it had been there.

Sam waded into the shallow water, feeling the coolness seeping over his skin as he idly wiggled his toes in the mud. “Here,” he said kindly, holding out a small, wrapped package in his palm as he squatted in the water to talk to Dean. “I got you a…house-warming present.”

“Really?” Dean’s eyebrows arched in comical surprise and he slithered closer in the shallows to snatch it out of Sam’s hand. He wriggled away, flipping around to float on his back as he rested the gift on his belly like an otter, pawing at the wrapping with a barely subdued curiosity.

“It’s not goldfish,” Dean stated with assurance after sniffing the outside of the package, tasting the corner with a quick dart of his tongue.

With gleeful anticipation, Dean tore off the paper, his mouth dropping open in disbelief as he stared at the offending item before turning the full weight of his gaze on Sam, who had sense enough to start backing out of the water.

The small plastic figurine bounced off Sam’s head, landing with a plop in the water at his feet. “You’re a dick,” Dean informed him with a growl.

“Thought you could use a little entertainment….might get dull out here.”

The tiny scuba diver bobbled in a sea of bubbles over the open treasure chest in the shallows, catching Dean’s eye with its colorful movement.

“We’ll find a way out of this,” Sam said, feeling a sudden tug of guilt for the teasing.

“A way out of what?” Dean wondered distractedly, a smile brightening his features as he ducked his head beneath the water to take a closer look at his prize. 

                                                  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later that week, Bobby sat with Sam on the shore, observing Dean as he did a back flip out of the water.

“Better’n Flipper.” Bobby said kindly, elbowing Sam so that he’d drag his nose out of his book. “Did you tell your brother what all those goldfish are doin’ to him, yet?”

“They’re not hurting him,” Sam insisted.

“I think he’d have a different opinion if he looked in a mirror lately,” Bobby disagreed. “His hair’s turnin’ orange, Sam.”

“Gold, actually,” Sam sighed, giving Bobby a reluctant nod. “I think it’s due to the chromatophores that are responsible for the coloring of the goldfish – kind of like eating too many carrots turns your skin orange. I’m not sure how it works, but even his tail’s turning gold.”

“Y’are what you eat,” Bobby added wisely.

Dean’s head popped up by their feet. “If that were true, I’d have turned into a wom-….”

“Dean!” Sam interrupted with a wrinkle of his nose. “I’ll make you a clamshell bra if you don’t shut up. We get it.”

“I need to damn get it,” Dean grumbled. “It’s been over two weeks.” He disappeared beneath the water once more, leaving Sam looking after him worriedly.

“What about the other…side-effects?” Bobby asked with a grin.

“The giddiness?” Sam chuckled wryly. “The chromatophores relate to light absorption and reflection. I’m guessing Dean’s literally jonesin’ on vitamin D.”

“Ya mean he’s high on sunlight?”

“Something like that. Goldfish of such bright coloring aren’t found in the wild; they usually revert to a more natural brown-ish color. The bright colors are a domesticated affectation; otherwise, they’d be eaten on sight by any predators – too easy to see. It’s not mixing well with his nix/human physiology.”

“I can see that,” Bobby replied dryly, following the flash of Dean’s golden hair and scales as he darted beneath the water. “Just lucky we don’t have any condors or eagles ‘round here or your brother might find himself some hatchling’s dinner.”

“I’m pretty sure Dean wouldn’t go down without a fight,” Sam disagreed, watching a flock of ducks swimming idly across the way. A sleepy duck gave a startled squawk as it was dragged underwater before quickly reappearing. With a ruffled shake of its feathers, it took off into the summer sky, leaving the smooth pond reflecting the clouds like a picture trapped behind smoked glass. 

                                             ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Playing King of the Hill today, are we?” Sam asked with a laugh when he swam out to meet Dean in the middle of the pond.

Dean was sunning himself on the pile of rocks that had started to appear barely a week after his arrival. It had begun as a barely noticeable breaking in the water’s smooth surface, but it seemed to grow a little larger each day.

This was obviously some sort of pet project for Dean and Sam was determined to be supportive. It’s not like Dean had anything else to do.

“It’s nice up here, Sammy,” Dean admitted breathlessly, splashing some water over his body from where his tail dangled in the water before rolling over and allowing the sun to caress the smooth planes of his back. “Come and join me.”

Sam scrambled clumsily up the pile, amazed at the engineering this had taken. The little island offered small spots of dryness amidst the spreading rocks that still somehow remained damp from the waves that washed over them with even the slightest movement. Pools of water dotted the mound so that no matter where someone sat, water was only a hand span away.

“You’re doing a really good job on this, Dean,” Sam admitted proudly, running his hand over the smooth surface of a boulder and into the water that lapped at its sides. The perfect rocks had been selected for the top, without sharp crags and rough spots to tear at soft skin.

Sam sprawled beside his brother, turning his head to stare at the sleepy-eyed Dean who was half in and half out of the water, reclining against a sun-warmed rock. Sam relaxed into the soothing water heated by the collected warmth of the stones, enjoying hanging out with Dean after following almost a month’s worth of useless leads.

With the world’s foremost expert on mercreatures turning out to be Hans Christian Anderson, Sam had a feeling this might end up an extremely long summer. Building a fort out of a huge pile of rocks might be just the break he needed.

“Want any help?”

“It’s done,” Dean told him, flicking his upper body with more water as he rolled to face Sam lying nearby.

“Where’d you get all these?” Sam asked, writhing against the warmth of the stones rubbing along his back and feeling his stress just seep away. God, Dean was a frickin’ engineering _genius_ – this was like a spa and a hot stone massage all rolled into one.

Dean yawned slightly before blinking up into the sun’s glare, knowing Sam’s curious gaze was aimed directly at him.

“Lots of rocks on the bottom,” he admitted. “Rockslide must’ve blocked it years ago…water tastes musty.”

“Blocked what?” Sam asked with growing alarm.

“Underwater caverns,” Dean shrugged, sliding back into the water. He flashed Sam a grin, his teeth looking slightly sharper these days, and said happily, “Larger fish are able to get through now that I’ve cleared some of the blockage.” He cocked his head to the side, suddenly demanding, “Where are my goldfish?”

Sam blinked in amazement at Dean as he disappeared beneath the water with a playful tug on Sam’s foot inviting him to follow. He watched as Dean made his way to the shore, wriggling forward in the mud to grab the edge of Sam’s jeans and dragging them towards the water to search the pockets for his treat.

“Dammit, Dean! Get your hands out of my pants!” Sam threatened with a grin. It wouldn’t be the first time in the past few weeks that he’d lost a pair of jeans or a shirt to his brother’s insatiable curiosity. Where he managed to hide them, Sam was never sure. Probably had some kind of nest underwater lined with Sam’s lost clothing.

Sometimes, Sam was sure Dean was more seal than fish, but he refused to balance a ball on his nose no matter how nicely Sam asked.

Sam swam towards shore to give Dean the bag of goldfish he’d hidden out of Dean’s reach, still wondering how far those tunnels extended if larger fish were making their way in – and if there were now a way for a six foot tall fish to get out. 

                                                 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was over a month in when Sam took a break from sorting through Bobby’s books earlier than usual one afternoon and jogged his way towards the pond. A few steps out the back door and a subsonic vibration made his ears tingle, like a slow change in air pressure – not an entirely unpleasant sensation – but it made his skin prickle with a faint hint of…something. Before Sam even left the confines of the salvage yard, Sam could make out words, his brother’s voice ringing over the water and crashing through the thick trees as he sang _Wheel in the Sky_ at the top of his lungs.

Sam shook off the desire to just lie back and listen – his brother had always had a natural talent for song – unnerving images of Dean singing him to sleep as a child brushed by something darker.

“Dean!” Sam shouted almost angrily once he reached the shore, shaking off the sensation as he interrupted his brother’s recital. “No singing, remember? We’re just lucky there aren’t any people around!”

A flash of something inexplicable slid over Dean’s face, gone faster than a sparkle of sunlight across the water’s surface. Dean kept his gaze fixed in the distance as he murmured softly, “No people around…yeah…”

Sam’s head suddenly popped up alongside Dean, clinging out-of-breath to the pile of rocks nearest his brother. With another flash of sharp teeth, Dean slid into the water beside him, slapping Sam on the shoulder. “Tag, you’re it.” At that, he splashed Sam in the face, leaving him sputtering in his wake as Dean sped across the water. 

                                                   ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Have you heard from Ellen lately?” Dean asked casually, swinging his tail back and forth to tickle Sam’s feet as he dangled his legs in the cool depths of the pond.

“She’s in Oklahoma, I think,” Sam replied. “Hunting a poltergeist or something…as I explained to you before.”

“She gonna swing by this way any time soon?” Dean’s movements became less fluid, and he clung tenaciously to the rocks until his knuckles turned white.

Sam laughed, shaking his wet hair out of his face as he said, “You ask about her every time I see you lately. Why are you so curious….”

Dean’s voice growled around the rocks, making Sam draw his feet nervously out of the water as he lost sight of his brother around the curve of a boulder. “I’m _hungry_ , Sam!”

Sam unconsciously settled himself more centrally on the rocks, momentarily regressing to the age when anything dangling over the edge was in danger of being dragged under into the darkness. He couldn’t catch sight of Dean’s golden head anywhere around his outpost, but his brother’s laugh came bubbling up behind him, the sound of warm summer rain on the rooftop. “Stop worryin’ so much, Sammy,” Dean chuckled teasingly, darting off to the right with a flash of golden fin.

Sam let out his breath, relaxing atop the rocks as his eyes slid closed, basking in the warm summer sun.

Everything was fine. Dean was only kidding.

Sam smiled as he heard the surprised squawk of another duck as it disappeared beneath the water.

He wasn’t paying enough attention to realize he didn’t hear it surface, the red tinged feathers quickly lost amidst the dry leaves on the shore. 

                                                                            


	2. Chapter 2

  
Sam sprawled across the couch, reveling in the privacy. It was great having Bobby around to help – hell, it was great having a place to stay that didn’t cost $45 a night and not to be living off the puffed up balls of grease any diner called French fries – but Sam had gotten used to Dean; anyone else in Dean’s place, however unintentionally, felt wrong, like he was wearing his shoes on the wrong feet.

He wasn’t sure Bobby would like to be associated with the idea of uncomfortable and annoying.

Fortunately, Bobby had gone to town to pick up supplies, griping about how it was nice having company and all - it wasn’t like he had _chosen_ to live a bachelor’s life secluded from town with only one road in and no guest rooms, no sir-ee - but even with Dean living off the fat of the land and a steady supply of goldfish, Mother Hubbard’s cupboards were bare because Sam ate like a horse.

Subtlety wasn’t Bobby’s strong suit. Neither was sarcasm.

So he left Sam at the mercy of his vast, unorganized library. Bobby had departed with only one warning – he didn’t want to come home to find his books infected by the Dewey decimal system. His organizational procedure was fine, by God, and he knew the dust pattern on every God-damned book lining the walls of his house. If he even found the semblance of alphabetical order in his home, he’d have to take Sam out back and whip him.

Sam took the warning to heart.

So Sam took up as much space as he could on the sofa, the low creaks sounding like the decrepit couch’s death groans as Sam tried to situate himself more comfortably on the assorted lumps and poking springs.

Sam blinked sleepily at the clock, a huge yawn making his vision blur momentarily, his ears buzzing in the quiet. He’d promised Dean to visit again in a couple of hours, but that left him enough time to scan a few more books. The words began to swim in front of his eyes and he tried to force them open….

…the sun piercing his eyes painfully as it reflected off the water slapping against the shore, the sound almost a soft hum in his ears. Sam shook his head, trying to dislodge the odd fuzziness, feeling as if he’d zoned out in the middle of a conversation.

“Dean?” he murmured slowly, blinking at his brother who smiled up at him with a knowing expression, the glint of his sharp teeth more disconcerting than Sam would care to admit – as was the smear of blood by his brother’s mouth, hinting at Dean’s recent lunch.

“Sam!” his brother replied with a contented purr, looking extraordinarily pleased with himself.

Sam shook his head again, wondering if he needed a snack. “What am I….”

“You came early to visit,” Dean insisted in a lilting cadence that sent shivers along Sam’s spine.

Sam squinted uncertainly back in the direction of the house, not remembering the long walk out here.

“ _Sam_ ,” Dean cajoled lightly, the single syllable dripping like honey from his tongue. “ _You just came to visit_.”

A slow smile settled on Sam’s face as the teasing rhythm of his brother’s voice refocused his attention. “I was just thinking about visiting,” Sam agreed, his brow smoothing as the idea took root. 

He began to shuck off his clothes to take his usual afternoon swim, Dean laughing happily as he splashed at Sam with his tail. “I’m really glad you came, Sam,” Dean told him, humming low in his throat. “I was gettin’ bored out here all by myself.” 

                                                  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jo dropped by early in August with suitcase in hand, completely ignoring her mother’s orders to stay as far away as possible.

“C’mon, Sam,” she said, cutting off his protests. “It’s Dean…with a _tail_. It’s not like he’s _dangerous_.”

Bobby just gave her a disgusted look - muttering something about fish and houseguests stinking after three days and lucky him having both and they just kept fucking multiplying - before stalking off towards the salvage yard to lose himself for a while. Sam called after his retreating figure, promising Bobby a cold beer when he got back which earned Sam a shrug of gruff acceptance before Bobby disappeared.

Jo was determined to see Dean, with Sam present or not, so Sam decided to err on the side of caution and escorted her to the pond. He certainly didn’t want a replay of Ellen and the bathtub.

Dean brightened at the appearance of company, a flush stealing over his skin at the sight of Jo. He opened his mouth, but then his eyes skirted to Sam and the heat that had suddenly flared was locked away behind shuttered eyes.

“Dean!” Jo squealed in disbelief. “Oh. My. God!” She waded knee-deep into the water, peering curiously at what she could see of Dean’s golden tail waving beneath the surface. “I thought mom was kidding.” She snorted with amusement. “I’ll be damned.”

“Wanna touch it?” Dean suggested with an innocent leer, flipping his fin in a golden arc just beyond her reach. “Just come a little closer.”

Jo stumbled a few steps further into the water before Sam gripped her arm, dragging her back to the shore. “Behave yourself, Dean.”

“What’s the rush, Sammy?” Dean asked, edging a little closer to Jo’s shins. “It’s nice to finally have some female company.” 

                                                        ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam left Jo researching some possible cures, safely ensconced in the living room. He wished she’d leave, but her ass seemed to be stuck to Bobby’s couch as firmly as a barnacle to a boat.

When Sam decided to join her about half an hour later after spending some time researching Bobby’s stored resources in the basement, he settled in the armchair by the window, absently calling out, “Found anything, yet, Jo?”

No answer, which wasn’t surprising since he hadn’t been exactly welcoming.

“Look, Jo,” Sam said, leaning down to pick up another book before glancing up at her seat. “I’m sorry I….”

She wasn’t where he’d left her. Had she been here when he came in? Sam scanned his memory and didn’t recall seeing her flash of blonde hair as he sat down.

Dammit. That meant only one thing. She’d gone to see Dean. 

                                                    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam couldn’t see them anywhere when he got to the pond, his eyes scanning the water for any sign of an errant ripple or stray piece of clothing. Jogging silently along the shore, Sam caught sight of a golden flash beneath the shadow of the trees and he raced over to check on his brother, hoping he wasn’t too late.

Ellen just might kill them both.

What he saw stopped Sam short - the terms _short_ and _Sam_ never having much opportunity to meet so it must have been quite the shock, to be sure.

God-damn, Dean had _legs_.

When he realized the why of it, Sam flushed, finally getting an answer to his earlier questions of _how_ and _where_ , when it couldn’t be seen.

It could sure as hell be seen now. They were dead men.

Dean lay atop a half-clad Jo, both their legs sprawled in the water along the shore, bits of mud and grass sticking to their exposed skins. She certainly didn’t seem to note the oddness of the previously flippered Dean now having legs if the sounds she were making were anything to go by.

Dean’s skin had a strange oil-on-water sheen, shimmering with a muted metallic brightness along the length of his thigh and across the curve of his hip. Sam could detect what looked like a faintly scaled pattern scattered over Dean’s flesh, only truly noticeable in the areas where the sun caressed his skin. Sam had no doubt it would feel as smooth as silk, the almost invisible incandescent scales a part of Dean as surely as the _what_ that sure as hell wasn’t going into any _where_ of Jo’s.

Before Sam could say anything, Dean’s hand slid from between Jo’s thighs and over her hip, tugging her towards the water and murmuring in a sing-song tone against her skin. Jo got unsteadily to her knees to follow him, ignoring the heavy weight of the wet clothes hanging off her body, making her movements sluggish.

“Dean!” Sam barked, his eyes widening in understanding. “What in the fuck are you doing?!”

Dean glared at Sam over the curve of Jo’s bare shoulder, the heat in his eyes a warning as well as an indication of his unquenched hunger. With a flash of teeth, Dean tried to drag her further in, Sam clumsily throwing himself towards them in an awkward bellyflop as he grabbed for Jo’s arm, causing a small tsunami to splash Dean in the face and crash along the shore.

Something like a grin quirked at the corner of Dean’s lips, but his hold on Jo never wavered.

“You don’t want to do this, Dean,” Sam pleaded, struggling to his feet as his hand slipped off Jo’s wrist. Uncertainty flashed over Dean’s face and made him loosen his grasp, Jo falling unheeded to the shallows beside him.

Sam stepped closer, Dean’s nostrils flaring warily as if taking in Sam’s scent before his eyes grew hooded and he began to sing softly under his breath.

The air suddenly went out of Sam’s lungs and he momentarily stood there, a wave of dizziness overtaking him, feeling as if every care in the world had been lifted from his shoulders. He blinked blearily before focusing on his brother and a smile stretched Sam’s face almost painfully wide. “Dean!” He waded a couple of steps nearer, the need to be just that much closer to Dean burning under his skin.

It wasn’t about sex, it was about _Dean_ – it was _Dean_ calling and if Dean needed him, Sam had to be there. It made perfect sense to go join him, to be a family wrapped safely in the giving warmth of the water…water which was the life and breath and _home_ ….

 _*thud*  
_  
Sam nearly passed out when the branch hit him on the back of the head, the only thing saving him from unconsciousness Jo’s unsteady stance in the muck, making her swing just a bit off of center. A heavy ringing sang through his head and he could see Dean’s lips moving, but could no longer hear him. Sam shook his head to get rid of the fuzziness, feeling Jo push by him and reach for Dean, and Sam grabbed her around the waist, trudging hurriedly back towards shore.

He turned to gaze back at his brother, Dean’s look mutinous as Sam studied him worriedly, shaking his head as a stab of pain threaded through his brain and he carried the wriggling Jo back to the uncertain safety of Bobby’s house. 

                                                  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam hadn’t realized how difficult it was to hold a conversation when over half the parties involved were deafening themselves with assorted i-Pods and mp-3 players. Of course, he’d never expected to be in this situation so it was unsurprising that the thought had never occurred to him before.

“Good God-damn, girl! I told you to keep your little behind away from Bobby’s!” Ellen shouted at Jo, who was sulking on the couch. “It was foolish to come here!”

She glared at her daughter, unknowingly tapping her foot in time to something that sounded like Shania Twain. Ellen had brought Sam a late birthday present, or an extremely early Christmas present depending on how he decided to look at it, and gifted Sam with his own mp-3 player the second she stepped through the door with a smug, “So it’s not just a woman thing.”

It was a relief after having Bobby nearly suffocate him with a pillow in order to keep Sam’s ears covered.

“No need to yell at the girl, Ellen,” Bobby suggested soothingly, trying to ease his way between them. As the only one unaffected so far by Dean’s song, and too old to hear him from this far away from his report, Bobby was lucky enough to be without constant musical accompaniment. “You know how she likes to jump into things.”

“After hooverin’ goldfish guts outta Dean’s teeth, I couldn’t get rid of the taste for a week!” Ellen yelled at Jo, still seething. “Was the most revoltin’ thing I have _ever_ had in my mouth!”

Jo’s eyebrows arched with interest. “Even worse than the time you and John….”

“Ladies!” Bobby interrupted quickly, a flush tingeing his cheeks when he saw Sam’s head swing around at the mention of his father.

“What?” Ellen and Jo asked loudly.

“Speak up!”

“Can’t make hide nor hair of what’s comin’ outta your mouth, Bobby Singer!”

Sam puffed out a frustrated breath, reaching up to yank out one of his earplugs, the faint pounding of a syncopated drumbeat catching Bobby’s attention from across the room.

 _…turn off the sun, pull the stars from the sky/the more I give to you, the more I die…  
_  
“Put those things back in your ears, boy. Don’t be stupid!”

 _…you make me hard, when I’m all soft inside/I see the truth, when I’m all stupid-eyed…  
_  
“Why in the hell are we holding our meeting here? I can’t hear a God-damned thing anyone is saying,” Sam pointed out, pacing the room with pent-up energy. They’d been trapped in the house until Ellen finally showed up, Sam wondering what on earth to do to save his brother.

 _…my blood wants to say hello to you/my feelings want to get inside of you…  
_  
“You want to leave Dean out there alone?” Bobby asked, narrowing his eyes at Sam. “Leave him out there to call every hiker within shoutin’ distance to be his next dinner? That pond used to connect to the Missouri River; seems to me Dean’s been tryin’ to find a way out, hasn’t he? Lookin’ for a larger buffet….”

 _…and I want you/and I want you/and I want you…  
_  
Bobby stepped up closer, tilting his head to stare directly into Sam’s eyes to underline his point. “Your brother’s gettin’ closer to gone every day. He’s not fully Dean anymore. His call can even reach the house now. The time you been losin’ lately? I never made the connection before today…it’s been Dean callin’ you out there.”

 _…you are the perfect drug, the perfect drug, the perfect drug…  
_  
“He’s just lonely, Bobby,” Sam whispered, his gaze pulled to the window as he felt a warm hum along his skin. “He’s the only one of his kind…except for me…”

 _…without you, everything falls apart/without you, it’s not as much fun to pick up the pieces…  
_  
Sam came to with his face pressed against the cool window pane, the uncomfortable weight of Bobby on his back as he forced the headphone back into Sam’s ear. “Keep that fuckin’ thing in!” Bobby yelled up close and personal, tweaking Sam’s earlobe to make sure the message got through.

Bobby turned to face the two women who were staring open-mouthed at the scene before them. “You two get outta here!” Bobby ordered loudly, gesturing broadly so they got the idea. “I only have the patience to deal with one dumb-ass at a time!”

He shook his head, muttering under his breath, “And at least Sam can’t get pregnant if things go to hell in a fishbowl.” 

                                                          ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 _There migjht be a way tyo save hoim_ , Bobby pecked on the computer.

Sam’s eyes widened and he responded loudly, the music still spilling in an endless muffled stream. “Why in the hell didn’t you say something before? God, Bobby, we could have been done with this….”

Bobby tried to push Sam out of the way of the keyboard to get in his answer, but Sam was too intent on berating him for keeping this news to himself. Bobby snatched up a discarded envelope and scrawled messily across the back, _It’s dangerous. Dean could die._

Bobby underlined the final word several times before shoving it under Sam’s nose.

Sam blinked cross-eyed at the note before yanking it out of Bobby’s hand to study it, rereading it several times before glancing in Bobby’s direction. “What do we have to do?”

 _He wants you, not me_ , Bobby wrote. _It’s what you have to do.  
_  
Sam nodded in understanding, closing his eyes as the song echoing in his ears reached its final, haunting chorus… _life is unfair, kill yourself or get over it_....

Bobby snorted, scrawling, _Christ on a cracker, Sam. You listen to the most depressing girly shit I’ve ever heard.  
_  
                                               ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam squatted by the edge of the pond, his bare feet sinking into the muddy shoreline as the water lapped hungrily at his toes. He tapped lightly on the surface, dragging his fingers through the water and sending ripples spreading across the still reflection of the sky that lay spread out before him.

He heard Dean before he saw him, the deep – and he was loathe to admit it – sultry tones of his brother’s voice causing the hairs on his arms to stand up. Shit, Dean really was more nix than human, at this point. How had he missed this?

“Hey, Sammy,” came Dean’s voice from off to his right. “It’s been a long time.” The voice went lower, pouting from the tone of it, as Dean added, “You weren’t _listening_.”

Sam turned to see his brother treading water – was that the right expression for a mercreature? – frowning at him before a grin flashed over Dean’s face, just a hint of teeth behind his nearly close-mouthed expression. It was as if he didn’t want to scare Sam off as he drifted closer, his clear Caribbean eyes wide-open and innocent beneath the odd, metallic brightness of his hair.

“I came to talk with my big brother,” Sam told him, an answering smile spreading over his face.

“Come in for a swim, Sammy,” Dean insisted with a humming undercurrent to his words, oblivious to his brother’s odd choice of phrase. “We can talk in here.”

Sam shook his head, trying to resist the low buzz that was crawling along his skin already. Dean’s lilting cadence purred through the air, weaving its way effortlessly on the breeze to caress along Sam’s jaw and ruffle the tiny hairs at the nape of his neck. Dean wasn’t even really trying, yet, and Sam could already feel it attempting to lure him with promises of warmth and comfort…if he just gave in.

“No, Dean,” Sam replied firmly. “You don’t want to force me, do you? You want me to _want_ to be with you.”

Dean paused, glancing at him with a quizzical tilt to his head, as if Sam had just said something extremely interesting. “You don’t?” A hurt expression crawled over Dean’s face, the lines around his mouth deepening as his lips curved downwards. The sun-sea color of his eyes turned the deeper shade of cloud-shrouded ocean waters readying for a storm.

Sam let his eyes go wide, an artful shiver of apprehension making him shudder as he stood up, saying in a voice reminiscent of their childhood, “The water’s so cold, Dean. You know how much I hate the cold.” He blinked his large, doe-eyes at Dean, telling him in a whisper, “I don’t want to be cold….”

“You won’t be cold, Sammy,” Dean insisted, his voice rolling smoothly up and down in pitch as he pulled himself closer to the shore. “I’ll take care of you.” Dean presented Sam with a smile that teetered provocatively on the edge of innocence and decadence, leaving Sam with the unsettling sensation of holding something delicate, yet dangerous, in the palms of his hands. “I’ve always taken care of you.”

Sam was momentarily unsure if he wanted to refuse what that smile offered as the music buried in Dean’s voice wove its way in a curl of heat down his spine.

“You tried to take care of Jo…I don’t want to be taken care of like that, Dean. I don’t want to die.” Sam gnawed on his lower lip, rubbing his hands along his arms, covertly digging his nails into his skin to keep himself from falling into the honey-sweet temptation of Dean’s words.

Dean shook his head in denial, looking hurt that Sam would assume Dean thought he was on Jo’s level. “You’re not food, Sammy. You’re family…. You’re _mine_.” His long lashes cast crescent-shaped shadows across his cheeks when he lowered his eyes and bowed his head, as if he were a supplicant at the altar of Sam and this admission were an offering spread at Sam’s feet.

“Does it hurt?” Sam asked him, his voice breaking just a little, like a scared little boy. He bit down hard on his tongue to stay focused, swaying on his feet before stepping further away from the water.

Dean shifted, emerging from the water on two legs, the golden shimmer Sam had noticed before still evident on Dean’s skin, even through the water that sluiced off the hard planes of his body. “Only at first,” Dean admitted, moving closer with the unexpected ease of a jungle cat. “Then it feels like you wouldn’t believe….”

Sam took a few more stumbling steps backwards, looking nervous, and Dean paused only a couple steps from the water, his uncertainty at leaving his sanctuary evident on his face even as it warred with his observation of his brother’s discomfort. “Are you afraid of me, Sam?”

“No,” Sam admitted, his eyelashes brushing against his cheeks as he lowered his eyes. “But this might be my last chance to enjoy something other than water sports.”

Dean laughed in surprise, tilting his head back and spilling his joy into the sky, the sound falling on Sam’s exposed skin like the gentle rain on a warm summer night. It gave Sam hope that Dean was still in there, despite the goose-bumps that prickled their way unnervingly along his flesh.

Sam knelt in the clearing, his hands clutching at the grass and his damp feet already dusty and covered with bits of debris. “Can we do it out here?”

Dean hesitated, looking back at the water, the long lines of his body suddenly taut. “I can’t be out too long.”

“ _Please_ , Dean,” Sam pleaded softly. “It’s not so scary out here.”

The reluctance disappeared from Dean’s face as he took the last few steps and settled on his knees besides Sam in the clearing, comfortable in his own skin in a way that Sam had never seen. “It’ll be quick, Sam…don’t worry.”

Dean ran his hands along Sam’s arms, following the curve of muscles as if tasting Sam’s skin through mere touch. Sam held himself still, unsure of how to respond to a surprisingly physically affectionate brother who didn’t even like to hug on birthdays. When he felt Dean’s touch glide down his chest to lift at the hem of his T-shirt, Sam shrank back, pushing slightly at Dean’s questing hands. “What are you doing, Dean?” Sam asked, the first hint of true nervousness weighing down Sam’s voice as Dean tugged his shirt over his head.

“It’ll go easier without these.” He patted Sam’s cheek sharply, a sudden glint of _don’t-be-such-a-girl_ flickering in Dean’s eyes as he urged Sam to strip with a tilt of his head.

“This whole change thing doesn’t involve sex, does it? You never said _anything_ about sex when you told me what happened!” Sam stated worriedly. “When in the hell did you have time to have sex with that nix?!”

“No sex,” Dean replied, a calculating shimmer flashing through his eyes. “Unless you want….” His tongue swept over his pointed teeth as if savoring some undefined taste, the slow widening of Dean’s smile bringing to mind a barracuda’s menacing grin.

Sam panicked for a moment, leaning backwards, unsure if he could go through with this subterfuge any further.

Dean paused, glancing back at the water. “We have to hurry, Sam….” He made a move to get to his feet and Sam grabbed him by the hand, awkwardly shedding his pants with the other.

Dean refocused on him, his nearly shark-tooth smile glittering obscenely in the late summer sun. “That’s my Sammy,” he murmured gently, sliding around Sam with all the suppleness of a water moccasin, and managed to restrain Sam with one strong arm around his waist.

Dean pressed against Sam’s broad back – and boy, was that a position Sam had never assumed he’d be in – molding every curve to the planes of Sam’s body. Sam fidgeted nervously as Dean shushed him with soft whispers, brushing Sam’s hair away from the nape of his neck with one hand as the other tightened its hold on the curve of Sam’s hip. Dean leaned in over Sam’s shoulder, murmuring against the shell of Sam’s ear, “Only hurts for a minute….”

Sam felt Dean’s tongue brushing over the knobs of his spine and he tensed, making Dean tilt his head a little more to get his teeth at the correct angle for a bite at the base of Sam’s skull.

With his brother off-balance, Sam snapped his head backwards, hitting Dean sharply in the face with the back of his skull. Dean crumpled to the ground with a soft hiss of discomfort, blood spilling from his nose and staining his lips crimson. Sam turned quickly, pinning Dean beneath him with an arm across his throat before he could make any kind of coherent sounds. Dean fought against Sam’s weight, but Sam used his size to his advantage, pressing harder against Dean’s neck as he straddled him, keeping Dean’s hips still beneath him.

“Just a little longer, Dean,” Sam panted, already out of breath from trying to restrain his brother without actually hurting him. “Gotta keep you quiet long enough for it to work…hopefully. If not, we’re all fucked.” Sam winced when he saw the red staining Dean’s jaw and teeth, leaving his brother looking like he’d just enjoyed a rather feisty snack. When Dean emitted a pained gurgle, Sam couldn’t help but pray that Dean didn’t drown in his own blood.

“Shut y’r mouth and keep with the pinnin’,” Bobby ordered as he emerged from the trees, removing the earplugs as he edged closer. “You can get all Oprah after he’s fixed.” Bobby paused, taking in the scene with a shake of his head. “If you two were sisters, I might be takin’ pictures of this. As it is, I’ll be havin’ nightmares for weeks.”

“Shut up, Bobby,” Sam growled. “How long does it take a nix to dry out?”

“How should I know?”

“It had better be before I choke him to death!” Sam shouted, alarmed by the sounds coming from Dean as he struggled for air.

“Just gotta keep him from making noise,” Bobby reminded him. “No humming, no singing….otherwise, you’re a nix and I’m dinner.”

“Why didn’t you mention the whole naked part of the process?” Sam growled at Bobby accusingly. “And what was with the tonguing of my neck?”

Bobby tilted his hat back, observing from a short distance away as Sam tried to keep Dean under control. “Nix venom affects the brain stem and cerebellum; they bite at the base of the skull where it regulates breathin’ and controls movement. Makes the brain adjustments needed for the change to gills and flippers.”

“Dean said she bit him, but he never went into details,” Sam muttered, panting slightly as his brother’s determined efforts to break free became more frantic.

Bobby rumbled a wry laugh. “Must’ve been embarrassed she got close enough to bite him at all. Didn’t want to share.”

Dean’s nails raked down Sam’s arms, leaving bloody trails on his skin. Sam winced with pain, Bobby reaching in to trap Dean’s wrists over his head so that Sam could keep his position intact.

“I kinda feel like I’m in a prison movie,” Bobby commented with a discomfited squint. “It’s a bit disturbin’.” He took another look at the situation. “It’d be easier to knock him out.”

“But it would be harder to tell if he were okay,” Sam growled warningly. “We’re trying to keep him alive.”

Sam felt the difference in Dean’s skin texture rubbing against his chest, that familiar dry flakiness that had so alarmed him in the car at the very start of all this the indication that the end was near. Nix couldn’t survive without water – if they dried out too much, they died. Dean, however, was a turned human, so there was a good chance he’d revert once the nix in him was killed.

At least, that’s what Bobby told Sam. Hans Christian Anderson had very little to say on the matter.

Dean’s struggles grew weaker until, with a mighty heave, Dean suddenly started convulsing beneath him. 

“Bobby…” Sam called out worriedly, wondering if he should let go. Dean writhed under him, muscles corded as his body began to reject the changes the venom had forced it to undergo. 

Sam nearly lost his grip when Dean's legs shifted to a tail beneath him, scales and skin sloughing off as Sam's body rubbed against Dean's flesh, tearing a little more with every spasm.

“Ride it out, Sam,” Bobby ordered. “We’re close.”

After a couple of minutes, Dean’s thrashing stilled, faint patches of dead scales crusted along his legs as he lay pale and unmoving. Sam slowly released his hold, vivid bruises already forming a slash across his brother’s throat. He sat back, struggling to regain his breath as he gazed down at Dean, waiting for his brother to open his green – God, please let them be green – eyes and telling Sam in no uncertain terms to get his naked ass off of him.

“Bobby…he’s not breathing.”

“We knew this was a possibility, Sam,” Bobby began, before Sam interrupted him.

“No!” he ground out, sliding off Dean to settle beside him. “There’s still a chance.” Tilting Dean’s head back and pinching his nose, Sam pressed his mouth to his brother’s and blew, ignoring the sharp copper tang of blood in Dean’s mouth.

Several breaths and a pulse check later, Dean’s chest still wasn’t moving. Sam tried again, emptying his lungs into Dean’s again and again.

He felt Dean cough against his lips and he pulled back, listening as Dean grumbled hoarsely, “Stop tryin’ to make out with me, Sammy. You’re embarrassing yourself.”

Sam’s head fell onto Dean’s chest as he laughed with relief, admitting, “You taste disgusting.”

“Got any gum?” Dean replied, weakly pushing at Sam’s head to get him off.

“Can you two please put on some clothes? I hear they got cable channels for this kind of thing if I wanted to see it,” Bobby told them firmly. He slapped Dean on the back as he sat upright, giving him a relieved smile. “Glad to see you flipper-free, boy. Was wonderin’ how big of a fishbowl I’d need to keep you alive over the winter.”

Dean rolled his eyes, getting unsteadily to his feet and shoving Sam’s hand away with a frown. “I can do it myself. I’m not a girl.”

“Or a fish, thank God,” Bobby added.

Dean wobbled on his feet as he tried to take his first few steps and stumbled against his brother. Sam put a bracing arm around his waist despite Dean’s protests. “You don’t have your land-legs yet, Ariel.”

“Or pants,” Bobby reminded him with a chuckle. He paused to awkwardly scratch under the brim of his cap. “Um…thought you’d like t’know. Ellen and Jo said they’d be back in a couple days to see how things turned out.”

“Aw, hell,” Dean grumbled with a low rasp in his throat, shuffling a little faster towards the house. “Think we can be outta here by tomorrow morning, Sam?” 


End file.
